


love

by n0nbinney



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Other, Revenge, bloodhound handles death... violently, not beta read we die like men, ouch oof someone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0nbinney/pseuds/n0nbinney
Summary: Bloodhound ponders love and what it means for them.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	love

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for the kind words on my last story! seems y'all liked the angst, so have some more :)

Love.

For Bloodhound, it was something they would gladly stay away from. Love was a confusing, distracting bundle of several separate emotions that was far from their comfort zone.

Love was pain, love was temporary excitement before crushing realization that it was never as you expected, and it would never live to your expectations. Love was for fairytales, children’s stories, and the comforting delusions of mindless teenagers.

Love was a sweet experience that brought someone to their knees in an instant, made them surrender all mortal possessions to simply feel it _once._ And then what? It would end. Feelings fade, people change. A simple boost of happiness wasn't worth the potential heartache and damage that inevitably came with a relationship. It was a distraction they did not want to take the risk of having.

Love was not meant for the hunter of the gods, and if they were being honest, they were fine with that.

They were fine with that until they met Elliott, that is. 

Everything changed when they joined the games, fighting alongside or against Mirage day after day, week after week. Their habits changed, their lifestyle changed, all revolving around _Elliott_. At first, he had no significance to them. His flashy persona and flirtatious attitude didn't affect them whatsoever- it made Elliott good bullet fodder, leaving them the opportunity to sneak in for the kill. But then they began to realize he was a lot more than a legend with a big mouth. He had habits they noticed, irritably enough.

He’d bite his lip when he was thinking, stick his tongue out while hard at work perfecting his holograms. He would rock back and forth on his heels when he was bored, and if you made him laugh hard enough, he’d snort.

It was ridiculous how quickly Bloodhound was smitten.

They would pray to the gods daily for advice, try to meditate and be unable to clear their mind due to thoughts of _him._ When they saw _him_ on the battlefield, they would hesitate and almost not shoot, in fear of, well, actually killing him.He infected everything, like the goddamn plague. They would lay awake at night, closing their eyes and seeing _his_ stunning face. They could feel Artur's eyes on them constantly, his judging squawks whenever they seemed to have a single thought. 

Thankfully, their pining didn’t last for long. Their felagi could see that they were struggling with the emotions, and set them on a rather awkward, yet… successful first date. And many more came after that, thank the gods. 

Dating Elliott was bliss.

They had never felt more… _comfortable_ with someone. They could take off their mask without the fear of being ridiculed for their scars, they could worship their gods in peace if the need be- and if they felt uncomfortable, Elliott noticed immediately and helped them work through it. No one had ever been so _courteous_ to them. It was something so foreign, yet addicting regardless. They forgot for a small amount of time why they were so averse to love. In fact, they even wondered why they ever lived without it.

They did everything a normal couple did, even with the paparazzi and rabid fans. They went on dates, they held hands, they kissed and made love, all while cameras flashed and reporters wrote articles on their sinful relationship. _Why would they never show their face? Why are their gods so strange? _

Could Bloodhound care? 

Not one bit.

As long as Elliott was in their arms and happy, they couldn’t care what was being said about them. As long as they could kiss him and tell them they loved him. 

They would talk about their future together. The type of life they would have after the Apex Games. They talked about a cabin in the middle of the woods- no paparazzi, no bustling city. He spoke of the exact opposite. An apartment overlooking the coastline, where they could cuddle up in bed and watch the waves crash against the shore, all of the people playing down at the beach.

They made a compromise, then. In the winter, they would go to the cabin in the woods. In the summer, they would go to the apartment. It was perfect.

But they should have known. 

They should have known they wouldn’t have their perfect life, their beautiful future with him.

They should have known that _something_ would have gone wrong.

The paparazzi, the burst of fame, of news being spread.

Once they’d caught them without their mask on.

Just one time.

They panicked, but Elliott soothed them.

“Hey, Houndie- it’s no big deal! After all, I’d feel bad keeping a face like yours all to myself. That’s art, babe, and it needs to be shared.” they remembered him joking while in their arms, his head on their chest. 

That wasn’t the exact reason they had panicked, but…. It did distract them, and that was all they needed. They simply laughed, kissed his head, and were soon caught up in a playful argument about who was really the artwork in the relationship. 

They should have said something.

One night, they were on a date with Elliott.. It was normal, if a bit rainy- the only thing special was that they had taken their mask off for the occasion. Elliott managed to convince them that it would be okay. They remembered what he had basically begged them to keep their mask off. 

" _Honestly, I probably won't even be looking at you- I'll be looking at the movie, I promise. Swear on my life. Scout's honor."_ They’d gone to see some stupid thing about a talking dog on a journey home. Elliott had leaned over to Bloodhound during it and nudged them.

“ _Hey, do you think you guys would get along? Yknow, cause like- you're both... Bloodhounds?"_

It was embarrassing to try and hide their laughter in the crowded theater. The joke was poorly executed, sure, but that charmingly awkward little smile made their heart flutter, and they laughed anyway.

The walk home was calm. Hand in hand, Bloodhound with an umbrella held over their heads, and they were just… talking. Something meaningless, yet it was incredibly meaningful simply because it was with Elliott.

Bloodhound had been on edge the entire night, and Elliott noticed- but he helped put the hunter at ease with his jokes and gentle words. Calling them ‘babe’, or ‘sugar’, or ‘honey’. A gentle caress, a squeeze of their hand was all it took to calm them down. Elliott felt like the only person in the world who could calm them, soothe their panic. Not even they could do on their own what he did to them. They shouldn't have let him affect them like they did.

They should have _known_.

That one picture.

That _one damn picture._

It had tipped off someone on their old planet. Someone who held a grudge.

Someone who wanted to kill them.

They didn’t know their name, just that they jumped at them from an alley, grabbed their arm and shouted something in their native language- Bloodhound couldn’t even remember what it was. A name. They held a gun out, finger on the trigger, and they tried to wrestle away. They weren't ready like they should've been, their reflexes were just a bit to slow. If they could just twist their wrist-

But it was too late.

“ _NO!”_

A muffled gunshot, and a thump.

They watched Elliott drop to the cold, wet concrete with a gunshot wound to the chest as their attacker, startled, sprinted off through the streets.

In those few seconds, a tidal wave of emotions swept over Bloodhound.

Fear.

Anger.

Concern.

_Regret._

They knelt down, eyes widened, hands hesitant and frozen over his chest. Elliott was breaking shakily, shuddering out breaths, each very well possibly his last. He looked at Bloodhound through heavy lidded eyes, and rattled out a heavy cough.

“Don- Don’t worry, babe.” he wheezed, and Bloodhound distantly registered a woman scream. They couldn't focus on anything besides their lover, they tried to think of something to do, anything. But they couldn't take their eyes off of his. The gentle browns that even in between life and death, searched for a way to help. A way to make _them_ feel better.

“CALL 911!” someone yelped, their voice sounding far off.

Their mouth was open, they wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. They reached out, taking his hand and holding it close to their chest. Tears were brimming in their eyes.

“Elliott, I-”

“He-Hey… Bloodhound, i-it’s…. It’s okay.”

 _Are you insane?!_ They wanted to scream at him. But they couldn’t.

They could see how hard he was trying to fight, how he was trying to keep his eyes open, the reassuring smile on his bloodied lips. People were coming over, but Bloodhound didn’t notice. Elliott gave their hand an unsteady squeeze. They had a small flashback to their youth. Their uncle Artur, trying to reassure them on his own deathbed. Holding him through his last breath. They were brought out of their flashback by Elliott's voice.

“I’ll-” a cough. Blood spurted from his mouth onto his lips and chin. “I’ll be…. O-okay, just… trust me.” he wheezed, and Bloodhound felt the tears drip down their cheeks, mixing with the rain pouring down on the couple. “Hey…. don- duh- don-.... Don’t cry.” he whispered, and they pulled his hand to their face, pressing their forehead against it. “No, no…. L-look…. Look at me. Gor-Geh-Gorge- pretty works…. Works…. Works of art like-” a coughing fit. “Like you…. They can’t cry.” 

They looked at him and scowled. What was he doing?! Even now, he was trying to flirt? Get a laugh out of them?

“Don’t you dare.” they choked out, and that made him wheeze out a laugh. 

“I…. I love you, Bloodhound.” he breathed, and Bloodhound leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was painful and bittersweet, yet they knew Elliott needed it. Something to send him off. They could taste his blood on their tongue, feel him try and give them as much back-

And then his arm went limp.

The moment it did, a great pain seized them like never before. They pulled away, then leaned in to his chest. Not a sound was heard.

The hunter of the gods, who surrounded themselves with incredible amounts of death every single day, felt immeasurable anguish as the life slipped from Elliott.

And they _screamed._

They screamed out Elliott’s name in the dark, stormy night, yelling up so the gods could hear and know their suffering. They pounded the ground with their fists, they stood and yelled like some feral animal. They nearly attacked the paramedics who tried to touch Elliott. It was only when Anita and Ajay showed up did they calm down in the slightest. All of the emotions they experienced overwhelmed them, and now they were just ... to put it bluntly, emotionless. 

They didn’t say anything when Ajay asked if they needed a ride back to the ship. They didn’t react when Anita gently took their arm, leading them through the streets and back home. They didn’t look at anyone when they entered the ship, only moving to their room and shutting the door. They unlocked Artur’s cage, took the bird out and set him outside, then closed the door.

They wanted to be alone.

The words of sympathy from felagi and fans alike did nothing to ease them, bring them any type of resolve. Their only love was _dead,_ and it was their fault. The only thing that would bring them solace was to gaze upon the body of Elliott’s murderer and make them feel the same thing he felt. Fear.

Days passed, then weeks, and as they were standing in front of his grave after his funeral on a cruelly bright, sunny day, they realized the irony of it all. Elliott deserved to die with the sun shining on his face, surrounded by loved ones- not in a cold, dark, wet alley by the one who caused his death.

They prayed to their gods, they begged to know what happened. Why he had to die. Everything happened for a reason, they knew that much, but the only thing that they couldn't wrap their head around _why_. Had they not praying enough? Was it their fighting in the games? Was this some sort of sick, twisted _joke?_ They felt as if they had to find solace in their gods, but they couldn't even do that much. They tried to find solace in their work, the games- but everything they did, they saw him. It was like he was still using his decoys. In the corner of their vision, they'd see him running. When they were using a med pack, they could see him crouched beside him, peeking out the window.

What had they done to deserve this agony?

A year passed, and soon they were in front of a quaint shack. It was quiet out, the dead of night. They appreciated the silence, and felt bad that soon, it would be shattered. Not that anyone but them could hear it, of course. They opened up a small locket they had been gifted by Elliott’s mother. It simply showed Elliott, a translucent hologram, hands in a small heart.

They sighed softly, tucking it into their shirt.

Love was something they could never truly understand.

It was a beast they had caught for some time, but never got the opportunity to tame.

Perhaps it was not to be tamed in the first place?

They took off their mask, entering the shack through an open window. They wanted to see the bastard's face. They wanted him to know what they looked like, what they did to him. They wanted him to read the pain in their eyes as they pulled the trigger. They wanted him to know the face of their killer, so that when they met in the afterlife, they may be able to fight once more.

Elliott wouldn't be with them- most likely, he would be in Valhalla. The hall of heroes, where he deserved to be.

They weren't sure they had the same fate.

Freyja worked in mysterious ways, guiding soulmates to each other- was it her point to make them suffer so? Or was it some cruel trick that brought their lover’s demise, some lesson the gods wished to teach them through pain and loss?

They would not know, nor speculate on it. They were tired of questioning their gods, deciding that it was simply something they weren't meant to understand.

But as they looked into the killer’s eyes, a gun against his forehead, they did understand one thing.

Love was sweet, yes.

Revenge, however, was _so_ much sweeter. 


End file.
